Where's My Cliché?
by Marshmallow-Maraca
Summary: Lovino is just living the same day over and over again - get up, go to work, deal with his annoying brother - and, like anyone would, he wants more. Everyone else is falling in love, from his family to his friends, and everything seems so appealing yet so typical. Still, Lovi thinks that, maybe, this could be the sort of thing he wants. Could an enthusiastic Spaniard do the trick?


Lovino Vargas' life was empty. It was always the same routine: wake up, work, go home, cook dinner with his brother, go to bed, and start again, and that bored him. He hated it. He hated having to get up and hear his brother's voice greeting him 'good morning' first thing, just to walk to the restaurant with him, work all day with him, and then go back to the house with him. It was the same old routine, and it sucked.

That was, until someone walked into his life, oh so casually, with his two best friends.

Lovino had been pretty annoyed that morning – their bartender had called in sick, meaning they needed a replacement for the day, and it was down to Lovino to do so. Well, he would be in the kitchen as usual, but Feliciano seemed to have that covered, getting all of the other employees back there organised, doing what they should be, whilst their waiters and waitresses served tables, and they seemed to be doing just fine, so Lovino could just get behind the bar and deal with anyone that needed a drink.

Feliciano was a little reluctant to let him do so, actually. He was sure that bartenders needed people skills, to be friendly and to probably not insult customers if they made any sort of remark that Lovino could get worked up about. His elder brothers had none of these qualities, yet here he was, standing behind the bar, waiting for his next customers to come and get a drink before they got a table.

Their restaurant was a small one, but popular, situated on the outskirts of Rome, attracting many customers and even having many regulars that they saw week in, week out. Feliciano didn't want to lose these customers and, in all honesty, neither did Lovino, but sometimes he would speak before his brain would engage and that would cause people to be insulted, offended and some wouldn't come back. It was difficult for Feliciano, because he didn't want to lose customers but, then again, he didn't want to be rude to his older brother, either, so he just wasn't sure what to do about him.

The younger of the two brothers often wished their grandfather, whom everyone called 'Roma', was there to keep him in line, but the elder gentleman had been spending more time at home and less at the busy restaurant now that he was getting older. He visited to make sure things were still running the way he had left them, often sitting down with friends or regular customers, but, other than that, it was down to his grandsons to keep the place going. Roma was the true owner of the restaurant, so, although Lovino and Feliciano were in charge now that he wasn't there to actually work, he was still their boss, in a way.

When cleaning the already sparkling table tops, ready for opening, Feliciano looked up at Lovino, making sure he was alright behind the bar. "…Are you going to be alright doing that, Lovino? Because I could always-"

Lovino soon interrupted him, putting a hand on his hip and looking over to him, "You think I'm not capable? Well, do you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"No buts. Just stop right there and let me do my job, okay? I don't ever question you when it comes to your job, do I?"

Feliciano didn't have the heart to say that, in fact, yes, he did, all the time, actually. He was constantly trying to correct him and tell him how to do his job. It was irritating, of course it was, but, again, Feliciano didn't want to say anything to him. It was hard sometimes, but he held it together and continued as he was doing, ignoring Lovino's 'advice'.

The restaurant was really homey and relaxing, on the whole. It welcomed you in with a bright smile and cheerful attitudes. With reds and yellows everywhere, it had a very warm feel to it and customers loved to be there. Feliciano made regular trips out of the kitchen to personally bring someone their food, happily telling them that he hoped they enjoyed their meal, which everyone always did.

Lovino, on the other hand, got people's drinks generally quietly. He didn't have time for chit chat, you see. However, he did smile sometimes. That was one thing that he was alright at and that Feliciano was thankful for. He didn't speak as much, but he put an expression on his face that would pass for decent instead of that dreadful scowl he often wore. It was nice to see this, it really was. It was even better whenever the elder brother smiled properly, but that wasn't to happen often, Feliciano could guarantee, and it was less likely to happen whilst he was working.

As he was serving, it was starting to get later in the evening, approaching around eight o'clock, and that was when three men walked in. They were loud, but fitting with the tone of the restaurant, so it wasn't like they were disturbing anybody. In fact, their jolly behaviour only made people around them begin to talk a little more, bringing laughter to others. They had brought an even brighter attitude inside with them, somehow, something that didn't seem possible until they came in.

The three of them sat down at the bar and laughed about something before discussing what they were going to drink. They weren't speaking Italian, that was for sure, and they all had thick accents, giving away that not one of them was from the same country as the other two. It took a moment for Lovino, who was standing at the other end of the bar, to realise that they were speaking English. It wasn't that Lovino didn't understand English – in fact, he was fluent, just like his family – but he rarely got to practice speaking the language that it often slipped from his mind.

Lovino glanced their way when he was called – he was only cleaning glasses, after all – and approached them, putting a hand on his hip and waiting for their drink orders.

This was the first time he had directly looked at the three of them and made the effort to listen to what they were saying.

One was French, no doubt, as Lovino could tell from his accent as he chattered to the other two about which wine he was thinking of getting – 'the Italians are good with wine' is what he had said as Lovino picked out his country of origin. His hair was made up of shoulder length, blonde curls, and he looked far fancier than the other two, even if his personality seemed to be reflecting upon them right now. He was dressed similarly, though. The three of them were wearing simple button ups of different colours, the Frenchman choosing light blue, and they were all wearing jeans accordingly.

The next man along was silvery haired, definitely the loudest of the three, wearing black and was… German? Yes, he had a German accent. Oh, great, thought Lovino, another one of these idiots. His dislike for Germans hadn't really come from anywhere. He had no reason to dislike them – in fact, his grandfather had known a German and was friends with him. It must have been the fact that his younger brother was so smitten with that German he had met once when visiting said country for a vacation with Grandpa Roma – it was Roma's friend's grandson, actually. Feliciano and he spoke regularly on the internet or over the phone now with him. Lovino did want the best for Feli, just like most brothers did for their younger siblings, and he just didn't like the sound of this 'Ludwig' even though he had never spoken to him. Well, he never made the effort to, no matter how much Feli tried to get him to come and say hi whilst he was hovering over the computer screen with Grandpa Roma in the background, waving to Ludwig's grandfather. No one forced him, thankfully, although it did result in questioning from Feli later that evening, usually him asking why Lovino hated Ludwig.

Finally, there was the third one, the one that actually did catch Lovino's eyes. Brown hair, tanned skin, big green eyes and a smile that complimented all of his features. He was a beautiful man, and Lovino hated to admit that he stared for just a second too long. When he had realised he was doing so, he replaced his admiring expression with a sourer one. A silvery cross hung around his neck on a chain of the same colour, and he twisted it between his fingers as he looked up at Lovino, seeming to think over his words carefully before he eventually asked the question – or, rather, the same question in a couple of different languages.

"Ah… do you speak English? Habla inglés? No, shit, wait… Lei… Lei parla inglese?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, losing his somewhat polite attitude to look at the third man who was clearly Spanish. "After asking me in English whether I spoke English, why did you bother to ask me in two different languages afterwards?" Lovino asked, his own English perfect. He hadn't spoken it for a very long time and had surprised himself that he didn't even need to think about what he was saying before he spoke.

The Spaniard wasn't deterred by this. Actually, he had laughed at what Lovino said, taking his sarcasm lightly, leaning forwards on the bar. "Point taken. That was a little stupid," he said, grinning up at him. "Well, that certainly makes things for us easier."

"…By that I can only assume that you can't speak Italian," Lovino said.

"Correct. We have come here with a guidebook in my respective language and a dictionary," the Spaniard replied, chuckling.

Lovino frowned again. "How the hell did you think you would get by with only a fucking dictionary? You can't just translate a sentence word for word and assume it will make sense."

He only laughed again at that, "I have _some_ knowledge of the language. Spanish isn't _that_ far off."

"It is. Italian is a much better language. In Spanish, the words are wrong, so don't think they're all that similar," he said, standing back up as he realised he, too, had been leaning forwards a little, "Now, are you going to stop wasting my time and order some drinks?"

Lovino glared at the Spaniard's two friends, who were laughing by this point. "Nice work, Antonio, offending someone who's serving you drinks. He's going to spit in your wine, I bet," the silvery haired man said, still laughing even after he had caught sight of Lovino's face.

"He wouldn't do that! …Would you?" the Spaniard, now to be known as Antonio, seemed to now be regretting joking with Lovino, or so it seemed. He looked unsure as to whether Lovino would go so far as to spit in his drink.

Lovino rolled his eyes and said, "The way you're going, I wouldn't disregard the idea. Now, order a fucking drink."

"You know, that's not a good way to speak to a customer. Most bartenders have people skills," Antonio said, but he was now smiling again, and Lovino realised that he was probably not going to be able to find anything to say that would make this man lose his grin.

"As cliché as it sounds, I'm not like most bartenders."

"…No, you're certainly not…"

His response made Lovino's body stiffen, but he didn't comment. Antonio's voice was smooth as he said those words, and he was clearly intending it to sound how it did. Who the hell did this guy think he was? The only thing he really was doing around here was, as Lovino had said, wasting his time, and he didn't need it.

"Do I have to tell you again?" Lovino growled, clutching the edge of the bar tightly.

"No, of course not. Hm, let me see… are there any wines you would recommend? I prefer red."

It was incredible that the Italian had managed to hold his patience for this long. He was getting very annoyed, angry and was fed up with having to deal these customers already, hoping they would get a table soon so they could bother one of his colleagues instead. He assumed that they would charm any of the waitresses with ease, and, just thought that he wanted to get rid of them. But, the Spaniard, on the other hand, spoke to him differently, especially when he had said what had made Lovino freeze for a moment. Maybe he just spread his charm to both genders, just to make out like he was this suave Spaniard, here to impress. Or, of course, there may have been the chance that Antonio actually liked what he was seeing…

Lovino wasn't having any of it, either way, muttering, "_Stupido cazzo stranieri_..."

"Ah, I'll have that then, gracias!"

The Italian stared at him for a moment, confused and stunned by how he didn't even process what Lovino had said to him, but he ignored it and looked to the German, "And, for you?"

"A beer, thanks. I don't care which, as long as you don't mess with me and break my bank account," he replied with a smile.

"We don't have beer that expensive," Lovino said, truthfully, and he then looked at the Frenchman.

"I'll have a glass of red wine, too, but probably not the same as what Toni is having," he said, giving Lovino a knowing wink. Lovino nodded and turned to fetch their drinks, and he could hear Antonio asking his French friend what he meant. He stopped listening, instead focusing on the buzz of conversation in the packed restaurant, wondering if they would be able to get a table tonight.

As he handed them all their drinks and they paid, he heard the excited squeal of his brother coming from the kitchen. It wasn't until he looked up at the window from the kitchen that he saw Feliciano looking his way and grinning widely. He rushed out of the back and over to where he was and got the attention of the German before Lovino had a chance to put the money through the till.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, it's me, Feliciano! Do you remember?!" he said.

"…Oh, you're Ludwig's friend! Oh, wow, how are you? I didn't know you worked here!" Gilbert replied, smiling back, now.

"Si, si, this is grandpa's restaurant! Oh, you have to say hello to him, too! How is your grandpa, by the way?"

"He's very well, and so is Ludwig, but I'm guessing you've already spoken to him today."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me…" Lovino's words broke the mood pretty effectively. It made Feliciano look up at him, at least.

"Lovi, this is Ludwig's big brother!"

Lovino nodded – as if it wasn't obvious already. This is just what he needed, that jerk's brother joking with him. He could only assume what was going to happen, now, and it wasn't surprising when his assumptions became reality.

"Ah, have you come to eat here? Come, now, dinner is on us!" Feliciano told all three of them, grinning still.

"Oh, that is so kind of you! Are you sure, because we can pay," the Frenchman said.

"Nonsense! Grandpa Roma wouldn't have it any other way, I'm sure! Come, come, I'll show you to a table! We're actually just clearing one up right now! Lovino, give them their money back! They don't need to pay for their drinks!" He took the money out of Lovino's hand, as he was still holding it, and passed it back to them.

Well, at least Feliciano talking to them had taken their attention off of Lovino, or, so he thought. Antonio smiled and nodded along with what Feliciano was saying, but that didn't stop him from glancing to Lovino every few moments or so, and this behaviour continued as he was lead to the table with the other two. It was only when Lovino glanced up and looked to where they were going that his eyes locked with the Spaniard's and he realised that he had been looking for quite some time. Lovino looked away instantly, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

Lovino worked for the rest of the evening and the restaurant's busy atmosphere died down, only a few tables left with customers sat around them. Naturally, one of these tables would be the one with Feliciano's… 'friends' around it. They were actually the last people to leave. Feli's laughter had crossed the room many times throughout their meal, joined by the other three, as he spoke of Ludwig, of the restaurant, of Italy, of pretty much anything that had entered the younger Italian's mind. Lovino didn't understand what was so funny all of the time but, then again, he hadn't made the effort to listen from the moment they had left the bar. All he knew was that he was giving away free drinks every so often, pouring the same two glasses of wine and one mug of beer each time. In total, they did have three drinks each, thanking Feliciano kindly for his hospitality but apologising when they had to say no to a fourth. They were walking back, and on unfamiliar streets it probably wasn't good for them to be drunk.

"We really do appreciate what you've given us this evening, though, Feliciano," Francis, the Frenchman, said as they got to their feet. No one was left in the restaurant, now, and most of the staff had left, only a few cleaning up the kitchen and wiping down tables, including Lovino who was wiping the bar and listening to their conversation, now, but only because he couldn't help listening.

"Oh, it's nothing! Really, it's our pleasure, especially for Ludwig's family and friends!" Feliciano replied, happily.

"Well, Ludwig actually thinks we're just his stupid older brother's friends, so…" Antonio shrugged.

"Oh, well, friends of Ludwig's family, then." Feli shrugged, "Where are you staying, then? Have you booked a hotel?"

Gilbert nodded, "Yeah, we're only in one down the street. The… grand… something. We actually got here this morning, and we've been there to drop our bags off, so finding our way back should be interesting." He laughed and put a hand on Feli's shoulder, "I'll be sure to come and say hi to your grandpa. We're here for a few weeks before we go home. We figured we should choose a country none of us had been to before, and so many people talk about Italy, so…" He shrugged, "that was our decision made for us, really."

Feliciano nodded along as he spoke, and he then said, "Well, I can always help to show you around. We don't need to be here every day, and Grandpa can always come and look after everything whilst I'm not here."

"Of course, some days we don't mind just walking around and getting lost. It's happened more that I like to admit when we've visited our home countries," Antonio told him, putting his hands in his pockets. "But we'll come back, I should think, and see if we need some help."

"Well, it's not a problem! I can take you everywhere you want to, and-"

"Feliciano," Lovino said, without looking up, "That's his polite way of saying no."

Antonio shook his head, "Oh, no, it's not! We most likely will need a hand at some point!" Although, now, Antonio's attention was back to the elder brother, and Lovino knew it. As Gilbert asked Feliciano where he could recommend for them to go, Antonio approached the bar and looked at Lovino as he sat down on a seat. Lovino tried his hardest not to look up, continuing to clean the bar of spilled drinks instead.

"So, you've been very kind to us this evening. Or, I should say, your brother has been very kind on your family's behalf," Antonio said, "…What will it take to let me buy you a drink?"

"I don't need anyone to buy me a drink," Lovino said. The bar was clean now, but he still didn't stop doing what he had been for the last ten minutes. "I can have them for free, too. And, even then, it's not for free, because we lose money having to buy new bottles to replace the ones we take. That fucking idiot has lost us money. It's not your fault, and I'm sure my grandfather would have done it, too, but neither of them thinks about these things before they speak."

Antonio nodded, "Alright, I understand. So… what would it take to let me buy you a drink elsewhere, then?"

Lovino paused in his actions, now, keeping his eyes on the nearest table. "…More than you can afford, I'm sure."

Toni laughed, "I don't doubt that it will cost me more than I expected, but I brought a lot of money with me."

Lovino frowned and looked up at him, "Let me save you some trouble, okay? I don't just go out with any person that offers to buy me a drink. Especially not stupid idiots that think they're too good to bother learning about a place before they visit. Especially not stupid idiots that think they know things when, clearly, they don't. Especially not stupid. Fucking. Foreigners." He turned away and grabbed a glass, pouring himself a small red wine and almost downing the whole thing in one go. He paused when he had drunk most of it, glaring back at Antonio.

"…I see," he said, nodding as he swallowed, but, still, he didn't seem to be bothered by Lovino's attitude. That REALLY bothered the Italian. Antonio continued, "But, you see, the thing is… I'm not one to give up easily. And, for the record… _Posso aspettare tutta la mia vacanza per voi_."

Lovino's head snapped towards the Spaniard and he faltered in thinking of a reply. He watched him, his mouth open slightly, but clearly took too long in speaking as Antonio spoke again. "I'll come back tomorrow. I hope you've made up your mind by then, okay?"

And, so, the Spaniard turned to go back over to his friends. He put an arm around their necks each and said, "Are we ready to find our way back?"

Francis nodded, "As we'll ever be, I believe."

Gilbert clapped Feli on the back lightly and said, "We'll be sure to drop by sometime this week."

"Okay, I look forward to it! Ciao," Feli said as he walked them to the door and out. When he returned, Lovino had gotten enough time to recover and he leaned forwards on the bar.

Feliciano turned to look at him, now, "Weren't they nice, Lovino? I'm so happy to see Gilbert again! I haven't spoken to him since my trip to Germany with Grandpa, and even then it wasn't for very long because he was always out with his friends. They must have been the friends he was with! They were both super nice, too, weren't they, Lovi? Antonio seemed nice. He was interested in you, anyway. He's not too annoying for you, is he? Because I know what you're like. You get pissed off at anyone and-"

Lovino nodded, an amused smile playing on his lips as he watched the door for a few moments. He had stopped listening again. He shook his head softly. Was that Spaniard too annoying? "No. …No, he's certainly not…"

*Stupido cazzo stranieri - Stupid fucking foreigners  
*Posso aspettare tutta la mia vacanza per voi - I'll wait my whole vacation for you


End file.
